


Dear Diary

by WeGotFoodAtHome



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: And everyone else - Freeform, Anxiety, Bulma is just flirty, Bulma's conflicted, But so is Vegeta, Diary/Journal, F/M, In the rain ;), Panic Attack, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball), slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:08:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeGotFoodAtHome/pseuds/WeGotFoodAtHome
Summary: Bulma Brief's world is falling apart at the seams. Being pulled between a failing relationship, a picky new housemate, and a looming android threat, she's left with an uncertain future and plenty of time to worry about it. Living her life day by day, she begins to find comfort in the saiyan prince bent on training. But how long will this 'comfort' last when the world's existence is at stake? Or better yet, how long will her comfort last when she begins to develop feelings for the alien who previously tried to destroy her world?
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12
Collections: Vegebulocracy Reverse Bang 2020





	Dear Diary

**Author's Note:**

> This is my piece for the 2020 VBO Reverse Big Bang, inspired by the lovely artwork from GreatRageSL on twitter!

The lovely artwork from GRSL! (What's happening? Keep reading to find out ;))

_Dear Diary,_

_I don’t know where to begin… or even what to do. What DO you do when someone from the future shows up, and says you’re all about to die in three years? Kami, it sounds like I’m living in a stupid novel right now. But it’s all too real, and I can’t do anything. I’m not a fighter, but that’s never been a problem. I just feel so powerless right now. To think, I’ve worked my whole life to get where I am, and it could all be gone and destroyed in just three years. In an instant. It’s keeping me awake at night, the whole damn idea. I haven’t slept well since, and my brain’s been so mushy I’ve had to start a dairy again. I haven’t done that since I was a little girl._

_I have to keep reminding myself this timeline will be different, though, and it won’t all go to hell. Goku has those heart meds now, he just actually has to take them; Chi-chi will make him. Then I’m sure the time traveler will come back and help us when the androids show their ugly mugs. We also have Gohan and Vegeta. Both saiyans, or one half saiyan anyway, but neither super saiyans. Vegeta said he was a super saiyan, but I’m not stupid. Sorry to rain on his parade, but he’s not a good liar. Maybe if they both can become super saiyans, then we’ll send those androids back to Gero with a boot up their ass and no problems._

_Since Vegeta is now living with me, a little more permanently this time, I feel like I need to help him become a super saiyan. At least, in my own way. I want to upgrade the gravity chambers and whatever else if it means he can become a super saiyan and help save us all. If he’d decide to actually listen to me, anyways._

_Only time will tell if he’ll turn on us, I think. We should focus on the androids first, but Yamcha is pretty convinced Vegeta will turn. Not to mention he is dead set against the idea of Vegeta staying with me again, but it’s not like we have any other place to put a washed up saiyan prince. Besides, Vegeta isn’t stupid. The androids are a priority right now, not his evil desires to do...take over the galaxy? I don’t really know what he’s getting at anymore. I think he’s just trying to achieve super saiyan at this point. I hope. Plus, who knows where Vegeta will be in a few years? Goku does have the ability to turn almost anyone good, I doubt Vegeta will be able to resist his spell._

_It’ll be okay. It has to be. I refuse to let this world fall into ruin. Even if I can’t do anything about it._

Bulma huffed, throwing her pencil back onto her cluttered desk and slamming her fuchsia journal closed. She glanced at the digital clock in the corner. 11:28. Running a hand through her permed cyan locks, Bulma decided some tea would be lovely. With a soft _click_ her lamp turned off and she was left in the darkness of her office, save for that of subtle moonlight illuminating and reflecting lightly off a few pieces of metal scattered about. Swiftly she made her way out to the hallway and down the stairs. 

Capsule Corp. was silent, as it was on very rare occasions. Bulma could hear each of her delicate footsteps as she searched

about the kitchen in attempts to find her kettle. “A-ha!” She rejoiced- a little too loudly-, pulling the pastel kettle from it’s hidden spot behind the bowls. While waiting for the water to boil within the kettle, her cerulean eyes drifted over to the leftover muffins on the counter next to her. Bulma knew better than to indulge in one, especially so late at night, but took one anyway. As she peeled the wrapping, the delightful smell of blueberries filled her nostrils. Bulma's rosy lips lifted into a small smile as she spoiled herself with her late-night snack, leaning gently against the counter. “Yum," she muttered, being once again stunned by her mother’s brilliant skills in the kitchen.

A sudden, seemingly disgusted groan filled Bulma's ears from the dimly lit room before her and she jumped. The heiress managed to catch the muffin that slipped from her grasp before it hit the tiled floor below, thankfully. 

She quickly looked up at the arched doorway, only to find a particular saiyan prince blocking the way, His features were barely illuminated, but his iconic scowl was easy enough to recognize. "Hey, what the hell? You scared the crap out of me!" 

Vegeta only grunted as he made his way into the kitchen, past Bulma, and to the refrigerator.

"I didn't even hear you come over here!”

Vegeta still said nothing as he began searching for a snack of his own. 

"Tch, stop stealing all of our food, will ya?" Bulma rolled her eyes at the thought of having to make yet another grocery run. He lifted his glare to her, and she pushed the muffin basket across the counter, "Here, try a muffin."

He glanced from over the top of the fridge at the basket to inspect it. He looked from the muffins to Bulma then back before deciding to close the fridge and try one. 

"They have paper around the bottom, so take that off first."

"I know how to eat, servant woman!" The saiyan tore the wrapper off, sending crumbs to scatter all over the floor.

"Ugh! Don’t make a mess, and don’t call me that!" Bulma turned up her nose, "I'm not a servant! My kami! If you keep calling me that, you’re going to be out on the streets!”

"Whatever. I’ve lived like that plenty of times. A roof over my head or not, it makes no difference to me.” He took a smaller bite out of the muffin, curiosity crossing his glare. “Besides, I’d like to see you try.”

Bulma’s mouth fell open and she stomped her foot towards him but was rudely interrupted by the high pitched squeal of her kettle. 

"What the hell is that?”

Bulma said nothing but gave him a glare that would cause normal men to fall to their knees. She turned to the oven and shut it off before pouring the water into the mug she had already set out.

She sighed. Living with Vegeta was nothing entirely new, as he already lived with them for a short while. Of course, that was before he stole her father's ship and left for space to find Goku. Bulma just hoped he'd treat her with a little respect by now. He was going to have to sooner or later, or she wasn't going to help the prick out with anything. Good luck getting stronger without the gravity chamber. 

Bulma glanced over at Vegeta as she put her kettle away, only to catch him stealing two more muffins and having completely devoured the first. She shrugged and took another bite of her own and wished he would leave, so she could enjoy herself. He probably wanted the same, and because of that Bulma refused to leave the room, however.

Vegeta didn't say anything as he started tearing through all the muffins in the basket. Bulma allowed him, as she knew her mother would be overjoyed to hear he ate them all. It was actually kind of cute, if she was being honest. Once he was satisfied he started heading for the doorway. 

“You’re welcome,” Bulma half-smiled, “Glad you enjoyed your muffins.”

He continued walking, "Tch." Disappearing back into the darkness of the dining room, Bulma was left alone. 

She pouted and rolled her eyes, yet slightly chuckling to herself. Placing her empty mug in the sink and her own muffin wrapper in the trash, she headed back to her room in attempts to get some sleep. 

… 

Bulma threw her head back in laughter, smacking the wooden table as she did. "Yamcha, you're so ridiculous!" 

Yamcha only smirked, removing the seasoning packets from their utensil tic-tac-toe board. 

"You cheated! You switched the packets, I know you did!" 

"Wow, babe, I can't believe you'd think so lowly of me. Just because I beat a certified genius and all."

Bulma rolled her eyes, "Because you cheated!" She started laughing again.

"Babe! I told you-! 

"Alright, I have two steaks, a medium, and a medium-rare." 

Bulma nodded and raised her hand towards the ginger waitress, a giddy grin still plastered on her face, "Medium rare." 

"Here ya' are, dear," The white plate clattered against the hardwood table as Bulma and Yamcha began taking their silverware back. "And a medium for the gentleman. Can I get y'all anything else?" 

"I'm good. Thank you." 

"I'm fine, thanks, dear." Yamcha gave a toothy grin before winking at the waitress. 

A pout fell on Bulma’s lips, but she simply ignored her partner’s behavior. 

"Alrighty, now you guys enjoy." The waitress smirked, a little too much for Bulma's comfort. She once again ignored this and began cutting into the sizzling steak before her. 

"Is it alright, babe?”

Bulma glanced up at Yamcha who still held a happy grin on his face. With her fork already against her lips, she nodded, “Mhm.” The steak was perfect, she had to admit, “How’s yours?”

He cut into his own, “Good. I can’t believe this place has been opened forever, and we’ve never had it.”

“I thought this just opened up?”

“No, that is the other steak place.” 

Bulma smiled, taking the last appetizer roll from the middle of their table, “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.”

“Also, you have a vast knowledge of steak places.”

Yamcha smirked, “Gotta’ know where to take my lovely Bulma.” 

“Aren’t you sweet?” Bulma smiled at him, “Too bad you cheat in tic-tac-toe.”

He pursed his lips at her before breaking his glare and laughing again. “Sure. Whatever you say, babe.”

Bulma laughed, forking another piece of her steak. Yamcha dug into his own, smiling as he did so.

“Oh!!” The heiress suddenly jumped in the booth. “I have something for you. I thought you’d find it funny.” Bulma reached to the side and grabbed a hold of her purse, lifting it onto her lap. 

“Oh?” He raised a brow. 

“Yeah. You’re going to love this.” She smiled again, but her lips quickly fell once she released her small white tote was on her lap and not her larger fuchsia one. “Oh, damnit. How the hell did I manage that?” Bulma threw her purse to the side and her hands violently into the air as her lips pursed with disgust.

“What’s wrong, babe?” 

“I grabbed the wrong bag when I went to leave.” She rolled her eyes, “Vegeta started bugging me, and I must’ve grabbed the wrong one.” 

“Vegeta?” His smile fell. “What did he want?”

“He just asked if there were any more muffins.” Bulma shrugged and went back to her steak, an annoyed glare on her face. “I told him to ask mom to make some more if he wanted them, and he just stormed off like he always does.”

Yamcha’s eyes narrowed in a suspicious manner, “He only asked for,” he paused with lifted eyebrows, “muffins?” 

“Yeah. He’s a saiyan. He eats like Goku does. If anything, he’s worse.”

“That’s all he asked for?”

Bulma sighed, “Yes, Yams’, I promise.” She shook her head, “He really does just spend all his time training and eating.”

"I'm just trying to look out for you, B." Yamcha reached across the table and took Bulma's hand in his. "I mean you are living with a murderous-" 

"I know. And I appreciate you're looking out for me. Really." Bulma placed her other hand over Yamcha's. "But everything is fine. I promise.”

“But-”

“Yamcha, please.” She sighed, “Don’t do this right now.” 

His lips pursed, but Yamcha didn’t say another word. 

The couple fell into an awkward silence as their hands separated, one Bulma almost found too familiar at this point. Others around them chatted excitedly, while the only sound between them was the clinking of their silverware against the once sizzling steak plates. Bulma found she had lost her appetite, and her glare shifted to the window outside. Pink clouds drifted across the quickly fading sky, and she huffed. 

A phone rang from across the table, and she looked back to Yamcha who held his newly illuminated phone in his hand. He swiped the call away, “Sorry.”

“Who was it?”

“Just a teammate. I’ll see what he wants later.”

Bulma’s head shifted to the side, “How is conditioning going?”

“Oh, so far so good!” A cocky smile rose on his cheeks, “I’m setting up to be the star player again this year. Though this is the only year i’ll play.” His grin fell into a grimace, “Since I gotta’ train. Y’know-”

“Yeah.” Bulma didn’t let him finish the sentence. She was already trying to forget about her fate as it was, she didn’t need to be reminded. 

Once again a bitter silence was bestowed upon them, leaving Bulma to just fidget with her silverware and prod at her steak.


End file.
